#just kind of imagining p.g. sitting at the table

[lizarr7]

"Oblivion"

The song I had on repeat while drawing this: ZAYDE WOLF x NEONI - Oblivion (Official Lyric Video) - YouTube

So I guess I'm posting DC stuff now . . . WOW it's like the whole rwby thing all over again. Maybe this will b a one off, maybe it won't, only time will tell.

Credit for this particular design of supergirl goes to @rontra although . . . I did take some small artistic liberties.

[juniorgman187]

The Unsaid (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: Spencer and Reader spend Halloween doing something unforgettable.

Category: Smut *NSFW Content 18+  A/N: This is my first time writing smut and I promise I’ll try to improve and not make it so cringy next time Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: cursing, choking, unprotected sex/creampie, penetrative sex, Dom! Spencer Word Count: 4.3K

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Call it cliche, but you looked fucking hot. 

Pigtails on either side of your head were tied with a red ribbon bow. Your white polo button up wasn’t buttoned at all but rather, secured with a knot right at your sternum. The shirt was pulled so taut, cleavage was showing. Just south of your red plaid, pleated mini skirt was white knee high socks with little bows at the top seam. You wanted to wear black heels, but they would’ve killed you by the end of the night, so you settled for the next best thing - black high top Chucks. 

Hell yeah - you were a sexy schoolgirl. Granted, you had to keep it somewhat P.G for the younger trick-or-treaters, but you didn’t mind giving the hot single dad’s a little show. At some point, you actually stopped checking the peephole and took your chances, not minding running the risk of high school trick-or-treaters on your doorstep seeing a little more leg than deemed appropriate. After hours of handing out candy, you tried not to lose your charm despite your exhaustion. That worked in your favor. 

When you heard your doorbell ring, something in you told you that it wasn’t a little kid knocking, so you provocatively leaned on the door frame once you opened it. And your instincts were right - for the most part. 

At first glance, it was like you were looking at a living paradox. His boyishly charming face and unwillingness to meet your eyes for longer than a couple seconds made him seem so young but how he was dressed reminded you of your grandpa’s church attire. Unabashedly, you eyed him up and down, whereas he was looking . . . respectfully. Yeah - that’s the word. Respectfully.

You crossed your arms over your chest, making your breasts push together further. This caught his eye, but he tried to pretend it didn’t. 

“Mmm, alright, I give up. Whatcha dressed as? Sexy professor?” You flirted. He cleared his throat, evidently unused to the forwardness you were exhibiting. “A federal agent actually,” He answered, flipping open a badge to reveal his credentials. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your demeanor completely changed. Your posture straightened out and you dropped the smirk on your face. You were rendered speechless, so you wordlessly nodded. 

“My name’s Dr. Spencer Reid. Um, can I come inside?” His voice was so sweet, it was misleading. Were you in trouble? If so, why was he being so nice? 

You did your best not to feel scrutinized while he observed the interior of your house. He was paying special attention to all of the Halloween decors. You thought you saw him smiling as he accidentally walked through a fake spider web because he was so tall. You took the seat straight across from him making things feel sort of like a homemade interrogation, what with the singular dim light hanging above the two of you as you sat opposite one another.

“I think maybe I should change into something more . . . appropriate.” You were about to get up from your seat when he stood up and put his hand up to stop you.

“That won’t be necessary. Here.” He jerked his dark gray cardigan off of himself and handed it to you before sitting back down. You stood there, clutching his large sweater in your hand. It happened so fast you didn’t have time to process. 

“Um, thank you.” You slipped it over yourself and pulled it closed across your chest with crossed arms. 

“Yeah, no problem.” He said with cool indifference. You thought this would’ve been a bigger deal - an FBI agent handing you his sweater - but his display of equanimity made you choose not to pay any more attention to it than you already did. 

He began asking you questions about the neighborhood, the people, even about the town. You became acutely uneasy with every question you answered, hoping you were saying the right things. It wasn’t like you were guilty of anything, but being interrogated like this just put you on-edge. You hoped that he was able to distinguish that the source of your anxiousness came from the situation, and not from any possible criminal activity that could be related to the case he was working on. 

As curious as you were about why he was asking these questions, to begin with, you thought it might actually be better not to know. Otherwise, you might grow paranoid, but still, you couldn’t help but ask the obvious - “Should I be worried?”

“Not at all. And if you do find something suspicious, just give me a call.” He reached inside his satchel and retrieved a card to hand to you with all of his contact information on it. 

“So how do I know you’re not actually the guy I should be suspicious of and this was all just to get me off your radar? Or a ruse to get into my house?” You joked, flipping the card between your index and middle finger. 

He had to chuckle at this. “Well, if you truly suspected something about me, why would you open the door for me?” He crossed his arms and put them on the table. “What was it about me that told you I was trustworthy enough to cross the threshold?” 

Without missing a beat, you told him, “You wouldn’t hurt me.” 

You’d never spoken with that kind of confidence or speed before, but something incredibly right about what you said. 

He wouldn’t hurt you. You just knew.

“What makes you think I won’t?” His question sounded serious, but you swore there was some sort of a sexual undertone in his voice. 

You tried to think of a satisfactory answer, but all you knew for sure what that your gut was telling you he wasn’t bad. Maybe it was something soft about his eyes, maybe the color that resembled sweet honey.

“A hunch, I guess?” 

He seemed delighted that his smoldering intensity had an effect on you. He was proud of how the heat of this moment alone shook your confident core. He caused you to revert back into a blubbering mess after he looked at you. You were intimidated by him. 

“So you’re not scared of me?” However, you chose to answer him would build up his ego either way. Because even if you lied, your body language wouldn’t. It would tell the truth and nothing but. 

You tried your best to make your voice smooth, and free of shakiness caused by fear. “No, I’m not scared of you.” 

‘Well, you should be.’ His eyes seemed to say. 

That’s when he reached both hands onto one side of the table and pushed, causing the table to slide out of the way. Like how a prey bolts when the predator nears, you shot up from the chair and backed up into the nearest wall. Theoretically, it wasn’t the best idea if you wanted to escape, but you didn’t want to escape - you wanted him to attack. You liked it. 

Spencer’s massive hands encased your neck completely, occasionally adjusting the force with which he used to choke you. Sometimes he’d let go, just for a second, so you could breathe, but it only made things crueler because, in the next breath, or lack thereof, he’d tighten his grip and choke out any air you were gasping for. Before you started seeing stars, you watched his eyes. They were darker than wine. He was enjoying this.

While your head lolled backward, the rest of your body seemed to tranquilize too. You had no control of your movements, so your body was shed of his cardigan when your arms straightened by your sides. You were like a rag doll. A toy. 

You were completely submissive to him. He had you under a spell that was cast by the magic of his dominant touch. 

“Still think I won’t hurt you?” He growled into your ear. He was so close you could actually smell him and feel the heat radiating off his body. 

He loosened the noose he made with his hands so you could speak. 

“You want to . . . but you won’t.” You replied between short breaths. 

Finally, he removed his hands completely, making your feet crash hard onto the ground. You didn’t even grasp that he was suffocating you using such a firm grip that you actually levitated off the ground. He managed to hold all of your weight and lift you up just by bracing your neck. 

“You can hurt me if you want,”

He looked too eager to hear you say that, making you want to fight for dominance.

“But only if I get to do what I want to do, too.” 

His sweet honey eyes intensified with fervor.

He put one hand on the wall and leaned forward, shortening the distance between you two. Soon enough your faces are millimeters apart. You look down at his soft lips with doe eyes, so he feels comfortable making the first move to kiss you. At first, it’s gentle and hesitant. A total departure from the dominance he was displaying just seconds before. But then he sneaks his free hand into your hair and pushes your head slightly to deepen the kiss. 

Not even meaning to, he bucked his hips forward, making your back arch against the wall. Reid takes this opportunity to remove his hand from the wall and place it on the small of your back. Slowly and sloppily, he moves away from your lips to leave a trail of kisses down your chin, neck, and onto your collarbone. Meanwhile, his hand has traveled up to the knot that secured your button up, and in one swift tug, the knot came undone.

“You are way too good at that.” You breathlessly acknowledge, shrugging the shirt off of yourself. 

You feel him smirk against your skin. 

Cocky bastard. 

His ever growing desire to see more of you overcomes him, and he can’t stop after just removing your shirt. So with the same unbridled passion he used to choke you, he pulled at the hem of your skirt, forcing it down and off of you. Threads practically ripped at the vigor of his actions. 

He must’ve recognized a look in your eyes that said he was a little overdressed in comparison to you because he didn’t stop you when you pulled at his tie and worked it free, so he could unbutton his shirt.

With your body nearly bare and the only thing stopping him from railing you being his pants, he continued the deed. Reid puts a hand on the back of your thigh to hike your leg up. You gasp at the hasty change in positions. He was as ravenous as a predator, but his hunger was something only you could satiate - and he was hungry for more.

Spencer left a trail of wet kisses from your collarbone, to your sternum, and then along your tummy. All the while, your leg is still hiked up. When Spencer goes on bended knee, your leg rests on his shoulder, keeping your legs spread out.

“Tell me what you want.” He commands, before placing slow kisses along your inner thigh. 

“I-” You’re at a total loss for words as Spencer’s kisses deliberately inch closer and closer.

“Is this what you want?” 

In an almost chivalrous way, rather than taking your panties off and leaving you completely exposed, he pulls them to one side, giving him complete access.

“Yes. Yes.” You cry out, while you watch Spencer briskly lick his middle and ring finger. 

Your body betrays you when he grazes his fingers along your lips, teasing you. You’re almost certain your legs would’ve given out underneath you if it hadn’t been for Reid stabilizing you with a steady hand on the leg that wasn’t hooked over his shoulder. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He purrs, slowly easing into the penetration. It’s almost worse having him enter you so unhurriedly as the process of adjusting to his fingers is drawn out. He refuses to increase his speed, wanting to see her beg for more. 

“Does that feel good?” 

You nod.

“Use your words, love.” 

“Yes, yes, it does.”

Your validation does the trick. He begins to sink into you deeper and faster. You begin to fight for breath as Spencer curls his fingers. Until he knows you’re on the brink of finishing, his pace is relentless. You were so close, but devilishly, he pulled out.

“Spencer!” You yell, but before enough of your scream makes a sound, he plunges his fingers deep into your mouth, to taste yourself on them. This gesture is well received as you begin to suck on his fingers, pleasing him greatly. 

“Good girl.” He utters. 

You let your eyes drop from his honey ones to the growing bulge in his pants. For you cannot speak, you peer down at his pants and up at his eyes to ask for permission. He nods once and watches as you begin to unzip his trousers.

As you palm him through his briefs, you feel the warmth of his precum through the fabric. Without being able to control yourself, you lowered his briefs just enough to completely reveal him. Your eyes enlarge at the sight. 

“You like that?” He coos. 

You still can’t speak with Spencer’s fingers in your mouth so you nod instead. 

Graciously, Spencer gives you room to breathe by taking his appendages out of your mouth and uses them instead to grip your hips and turn you away from him. He slammed the front of your body into the wall, causing your cheek to press against it. 

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.” It was so bewildering how he managed to say things like that, proving he cared about you, but still dominated you with unrelenting aggression. 

“Do you want me to wear -” You didn’t even let him finish his question. You cut him off by arching your butt so it would graze over his cock. In this, you gave him your answer. Your body yearned for him and you desperately needed to feel him raw.

Unlike when he was fingering you earlier, he accelerated his movements. He fucked you with an animalistic speed. You didn’t even have time to adjust to his full length before he pulled back and thrust again. His pelvis rammed into your ass so hard with each forward movement that would surely leave bruises on you both. 

What you felt was indescribable. The pain would be quickly replaced by pleasure, only for you to feel pain again. You didn’t know why, but it felt so good. He was hurting you, but in the best kind of way. Your bodies were tangling and merging. The heat that circulated in the air around you and the humidity emitting from your skin was ruthless. 

On fire. 

That’s what you felt - on fucking fire. 

Spencer’s strokes picked up and started hitting you in a spot that made you cry out in anguish. You actually started standing on the balls of your feet, practically tip-toeing. With your palms pushed against the wall, it was only a matter of time before you clawed a hole into it. Truthfully, a guy never made you cum before, so this was a completely new feeling. It was like pressure was building up inside of you and you had to release it, but right when you thought you’d come undone, the pressure only increased. Neither you nor Spencer had to vocalize that you were reaching your peaks because your bodies were saying everything unsaid. And just when you thought the air couldn’t get stickier, and the heat couldn’t get hotter, you and Spencer came at the same time. The only word you could use to describe the feeling was sublime. Not the sex (well partially the sex of course) but Spencer. 

Sublime.

His pace slowed down exponentially while he drew you closer to him to leave butterfly kisses along your shoulder. His arms enveloped you at his waist, and you almost indulged in his embrace by leaning into his chest, but there was no time when the doorbell rang. 

“Trick-or-treat!” A group of kids yelled from outside. 

You looked behind you exchanging looks that read, ‘Oh shit.’

Spencer flipped the light switch off that was right beside you before you took his hand and ran with him down the hallway giggling. 

Here you were - two grown ups running from kids that wanted candy. How childish. 

It was the combination of being choked, having sex, and running that left you breathless, but after a few minutes your heartbeat slowed down. 

“I think they’re gone.” Spencer observed.

You trusted he was right and retreated from the room with extra caution. You reached into the dark to feel for the light switch. After the lights came back on, you saw Spencer crouching down, gathering your clothes off the floor. 

You wanted to stop him to save him the inconvenience, but he was already helping you back into your clothes before you could even say, “I’ve got it.”

Spencer gingerly slid your mini skirt up your legs, frowning slightly at the tear in it that he caused. It was like evidence of his roughness, and he didn’t like it. 

“Sorry about that.” He murmured. 

You told him not to worry and that the rip made the skirt look cooler, which you could tell didn’t lessen his guilt, but it was good enough to make him smile and that was the intention anyway. Next to dress you in was the button up, and you had to laugh when, instead of tying a knot at the front, he opted for buttoning it up all the way to the collar. It was like he was trying to protect your modesty and dress you to look more respectable. Last to put on was his cardigan. After a small comment about letting you keep it, he started redressing. This is a moment you duly noted. 

He took care of you first. 

Was it stupid to fawn over such a small thing? Him helping you dress up first before he even dressed himself? 

Your thoughts carried you so far away you didn’t even realize he already finished dressing and was putting on his messenger bag. 

“Happy Halloween, by the way.” You nudged his shoulder with your index finger trying to be lighthearted, even though the heavy weight of your inevitable goodbye was weighing on you. 

He chuckled and licked his lips before responding. “Happy Halloween.” 

You turned around to begin the miserable walk toward the door, while he was right on your heels, following closely behind. You opened the door for him to walk through and you smiled as the two of you lingered in the doorway. Evidently, neither one of you was quite ready to say goodbye. 

Your mouth must’ve become a completely separate entity since you started hearing words rolling off your tongue without even processing them beforehand. “I knew that you wouldn’t hurt me not because of what you said or what you did, but because of what you didn’t say or what you didn’t do.”

There was something about the unsaid and the undone that told you everything about the unknown.

With an understanding nod, Spencer took a step away from the threshold. 

He kept his head down and his eyes on the floor as he walked away with his hands in his pockets. The hopeless romantic in you wished he would look over his shoulder and back at you, or stop walking and turn around and run back up to you, but he didn’t. You almost thought he’d stop at the gate and say something, but no. He didn’t say a single thing. And for some reason, that was okay. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

You clasped your black push up bra behind your back, adjusting it in the front for maximum cleavage. Then you put on fishnets and a pair of black booty shorts. Last to put on was a white polo button up. That’s when you remembered it was the exact same shirt you wore for last year’s costume. It was weirdly nostalgic. You only fastened the shirt until it hid your midriff, but left the buttons that would expose your bra unclasped. 

To say what happened next felt like some supernatural spirit came into the room with you would be a gross understatement, because as soon as you stopped buttoning your shirt, you could see and feel Spencer’s ghost in front of you buttoning the rest. All the way up to the collar just as he did last year. 

So, just for Spencer, you fastened one extra button.

You painted fake blood under your nose and straightened your hair, which wasn’t giving off the desired effect. A black wig or a prop cigarette would’ve made your costume much more clear, but you’d been too lazy this year to obtain either of those things, so really the only obvious sign of who you were was the bloody nose.

Mia Wallace. Pulp Fiction. 

Before stepping out of the house to join your friends, you put on thigh high black boots. 

Luckily, they all saw what you were going for with your costume, so you felt slightly better, but there was still something weighing on your heart that kept you at a distance from your friends tonight. 

Handing out candy to trick-or-treaters wasn’t really your speed this year, so you opted for joining your friends at a club. At first, you were able to convince yourself that you were having fun and that you weren’t completely miserable, but as the night continued, it became harder to lie to yourself. You weren’t having fun. Sitting in the silence here was most definitely not fun. Not to say the club was quiet, but you were. And the silence was deafening. See with Spencer, when you didn’t speak, whether it was when he left you that night wordlessly, or when you came together without even vocalizing that you would, the silence was okay. It was welcome. But here tonight, watching your friends enjoy themselves on the dance floor - the silence was suffocating. The longer you sat there watching them, the more you noticed how they weren’t calling you onto the dance floor to join them. No one cared to include you. It felt like a sign. That you should leave, because if your presence didn’t matter, your absence wouldn’t either. So you slipped out of the club, not surprised that no one saw you and stopped you or begged you to stay. You got into your car and instantly unzipped your boots. No wonder you wore converse last year, heels hurt like hell. When you threw the shoes into the backseat, you caught a glimpse of something lying on the floor. 

Dark gray cardigan. 

You’d forgotten that that was even there. Would it be weird to wear it again? It was a cold autumn night, and it wasn’t like you were wearing much to shield you from the cold, so merely for the warmth, you put on the cardigan. 

You were in such a rush to be in your own bed again that you probably broke a couple traffic laws. After all, there wasn’t anything quite like seeing your house again after hours of wanting to be home. 

But then again, nothing could compare to seeing Spencer Reid sitting on your doorstep reading. Absolutely nothing. 

“Spencer?” You asked while blinking hard to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you. You didn’t know how you could tell it was him, but there was something in you that just knew. The same kind of gut feeling that told you he wouldn’t hurt you.

He looked up from his book and shut it with a smile when he saw you. You opened the gate and met him halfway in the walkway. 

“You still have my cardigan,” He laughed while taking in the sight. “Mia Wallace, right?” 

You nodded, unable to take your eyes off of him. In the light, you could actually make out his features. He looked older now. His hair was longer and much curlier than you remembered. He even had some scruff on his face. 

“Happy Halloween, by the way.” You recited the exact words you said and poked him in the shoulder just as you did last year. 

“Happy Halloween.” He grinned, immediately understanding the reference. 

“So . . . who are you dressed as this year?” It was only a playful question, but it seemed like he was ready to give you a serious answer. 

Though his looks were deceiving and telling you that Spencer changed, his behavior told you he was still the same Spencer he was before. He looked everywhere except for right at you as he tried to think with an answer, and when he finally did speak, he couldn’t meet your eyes for very long. He still had his boyish charm. 

“I, um, I’m dressed as someone who didn’t get very much sleep, spontaneously booked a flight, and came straight here to tell you he needed to see you again.”

“Mmm, very cool costume.” You quipped. When your laughs died off, a new type of silence emerged. It was very different from the kind you were drowning in at the club earlier. This time, the quietude was rejuvenating. The two of you were simply taking in the feeling of being in each other’s presence again. 

“Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?” You asked, quoting Mia Wallace. 

Of course, he knew what the next line was. “I don’t know. That’s a good question.” He replied, quoting Vincent Vega. 

“That's when you know you've found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.” 

With that, the comfortable quietude returned to fall upon the two of you again, but you enjoyed it because you’d found somebody special that made things like silence sublime.

So much more was said in the unsaid. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

[toast-the-unknowing]

Hey can you rec some of your favorite books? Especially books that you think dealt with your favorite tropes in a really great way? Love ur blog and your fics!!

Okay I have been sitting on this ask trying to come up with some kind of definitive list of favorite books I recommend and I had to admit to myself that whatever I can think up I’m going to forget some good stuff. But something’s better than nothing, probably! Going behind the cut because it got long, FUCK, I told myself it wasn’t going to get long:

I love Diana Wynne Jones so much, really all her books are good but particular favorites are Deep Secret, Dark Lord of Derkholm, and The Lives of Christopher Chant (although you should read Charmed Life first to just. really appreciate what a fucking diva Christopher is.) She does the most incredible job in all of her books of just raising complication after complication until it all comes together and everything’s happening at once and then it just. Resolves in incredible ways. Beautifully crafted plots, is what I’m saying. And I’m always in awe of how she has people in her books who are just…petty, or selfish, or close-minded, or weak; there’s something very real about a world that has Mrs. Sharp in it, even if there’s also a cat that used to be a violin.

I currently have three Nero Wolfe books on my bedside table and I’m pretty sure I’ve read each of them at least twice before; I just pick one up anytime I find one in a used bookstore, to slowly build out my collection. I love the mysteries, I love what a smartass Archie Goodwin is, I love Wolfe as the single most stubborn human being to ever live, I am really weirdly oddly soothed every time I pick up one of those books and fall into the rhythm of life in the brownstone on West 35th St. My life and home are a mess, but from nine to eleven every morning Wolfe is up with his orchids.

I am trying describe why and how I love The Last Unicorn and literally the words that popped into my head are it makes me quiet. It is just a book of incredible beauty and emotion, in a world that is every-fantasy-world except it actually feels lived in. Even the funny bits, or the weird shit, or Schmendrick as the closest you get to a comic relief, even those bits once you spend one more second with them you just sink so deep into them. That’s the kind of book I reread and then I need to stare out a window for a while and just not…do anything.

I am amazed and awed at the world that is created in Tana French’s Dublin Murder Squad, which is partly down to (I am sure) tons of research, smart observation, social awareness, it’s also partly down to that strange is-it-isn’t-it-magical-realism that’s going on. Mostly it’s just…the tone in these books is incredible, like the filter that’s on the lens of her story telling camera does such interesting things with light that I almost don’t care what she’s taking a picture of (to really really torture a metaphor), except that I do care because her characters are so real.

I cannot in good conscience recommend this series without giving, just, all of the content warnings, if you have any kind of trigger, just, do some research. I wasn’t even expecting it but Broken Harbor fucked me up bad, I barely slept for two nights in a row.

When Dublin Murder Squad, or literally anything else in life, bums me the fuck out, I pick up Jeeves. Literally the first I ever read P.G. Wodehouse was in high school when I was having a rotten day and my dad came in and gave me his compilation of Jeeves short stories and told me to read it. I got about four pages into the first story before I was smiling and laughing which I hadn’t even thought was possible five minutes prior. Wodehouse is another author who does a great job of bringing the different threads of a story together at the end in a really satisfying way. Besides just being hilarious. I think half the words my father and I say to each other are just quoting Jeeves back and forth.

There is a very specific kind of angry I get when I see someone doing something creative that I wish I had done, dammit, it’s so GOOD, and I think the very first time I ever felt that way was reading The Princess Bride when I was ten years old. I never really got into the movie the way most of my peers seem to have, don’t get me wrong, it’s fine, but if you haven’t read the book, it’s genius. FUCK! I’m still mad I didn’t write it.

I cannot imagine that anyone on this website needs to have Good Omens recommended to them at this point, I just also can’t imagine listing my favorite books and not including it. The first hundred pages might be the hardest that I have ever laughed at anything. Including the fact that I was reading it under my desk in class and I was trying so hard not to laugh and give away that I was reading that I ended up literally crying, tears pouring down my face, and my friend took the book away from me for my own good.

I similarly can’t think of Good Omens without skipping over to think of Discworld. More and more I think Night Watch is my favorite of the series. Many of them are brilliant, most of them are funny, I think all of them if you look for it have some anger deep within them. But Night Watch…I think when I first read it I liked the identity issues at stake; it’s very scifi, with the time travel and the man at risk of changing his own personal history. But more and more I am haunted by the sense of frustration and loss and not even persevering but simply surviving through madness and chaos and cruelty, Sam Vimes doing work he was never supposed to have done, except that someone had to do it, living through something again after he’d already gone through it once, something that even the first time it happened had just been the same old shit all over again…it speaks to me a lot, these days.

[sweetpeatrashxo]

College Rumors: P.G**

This is my second longest imagine that was on my list of imagines to do. So here is College Rumors hope you enjoy. Warning: Sexual Content, swearing and Gallagher kind of thing so drugs etc.

You and Lip has been a thing for some time now, but no one knows, cause well it’s been a quiet relationship cause of what happened with his ex-professor. But rumors have been getting around about you two saying you two are more than ‘best friends’ which you two are, but with both of your pasts, you both realized it’s best to keep it out of the spotlight. So fuck, no one cared what you two did as best friends, which was a lot. Nothing too far, like when you wanted to learn things like how to give a blow job you went to him, even tho when you went to go to you boyfriend at the time to show him you found him cheating with Holly. You and Lip have been together since, but once rumors spark about your relationship everyone wants to know.

But it’s currently holidays from uni, you were with Lip at the Gallagher house, they all know because well it was obvious enough you two were together. Fiona adored the fact you two were finally together, Ian was shocked at first but ended up being cool about it, Carl threatened Lip if he hurts you that he’ll hit Lip, Debs s happy and well Liam doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. You were walking downstairs to grab breakfast, when you saw Lip sitting on the stool glaring at his phone, you spoke up “You okay babe?” He sighed “Just sick of people asking if we are together, like I’m not ashamed it’s just I dunno if I wanna tell people yet that I found the one.” You kissed his cheek then walked over to the toaster placing bread in it “I know Lip, it’s alright, I’m ready to tell everyone when you are.” He smiled “Alright then we’ll figure out a way soon, but first why do you look so hot in my shirt?”

You smiled at him “Dunno why do you always look good hey Phillip?” He walked over to you and planted his lips on yours, Fiona yelled out “Stop making out in the kitchen you two, take it to your bedroom.” You giggled to yourself as you put your face into his chest, your toast popped, you grabbed it out spreading butter all over it, you opened the fridge grabbing out the OJ and pouring it into a glass. You sipped it then proceeded to eat your toast, once you finished you walked back up to Lip’s room, you opened his door to see him playing with himself.

His head snapped up to meet your hungry eyes, you walked in closing the door behind yourself locking it, you walked over to his bed, his eyes were full of lust. Seeing him this valuable turned you on,when you were close to him you took his shirt off showing your black laced underwear, you slept with no bra on so your bare torso showed, he didn’t take his eyes of you, he stood back and watched your every move. His mind was going crazy, all he could think of was you. You leaned down connecting your lips with his, he flipped you two over with your lips still connected, he pulled back and went straight down to your heat, his mouth instantly connected with it.

You felt a rush of sensation run through your body, you let out an oddly loud moan, he soon added a finger making the sensation feel better, you felt yourself tighten around Lip’s fingers without a word leaving your mouth he started speeding up sucking on your clit. You were having all this pleasure hit you at once, you screamed “Lip.” As you came, you let a huge breath out, you watched as he leaned up, you leaned over to his side table grabbing a condom waving it around, he smirked pouncing for it. You watched as he took it, opening it and rolling it over his length, he connected his lip with your swollen lip. He lined himself up and slowing pushed himself in, you gasped at the feeling.

He took that chance to slide his tongue in your mouth to fight dominance with it, which obvious he won. With every thrust he moved his lips towards your neck, once he got there he started sucking on it, you went to moan loudly when he covered your mouth his hand. You moaned into his hand which ended up muffled. After a couple minutes Lip mumbled into your neck “Y/N I’m gonna cum.” He started thrusting hard into you and it was fast, with every thrust he hit your g-spot, you felt yourself tighten around his dick again he released into the condom as you released around it. You two road off your highs, once he was done, he took the condom off dispensing it into the bin beside his bed.

You smirked “I figured a way to tell them. You took your phone off the side table, you opened the camera and took a photo of you two where you were your head is on his chest. You opened up your Instagram, posting the photo with the caption ‘To address the rumors about Lip and I together, fuck yes we are together. And I couldn’t be any happier than I am now, no one has treated like this douche has treated me.I love him.’ You then tagged him in it. He smiled at it “Now everyone knows you’re my girl.”